


The Adventures of A Drunken Banjo

by shipping_express



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Alcohol, Crack, Fluff and Crack, Guns, No one actually gets hurt, Swearing, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-11
Updated: 2015-02-11
Packaged: 2018-03-11 19:28:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3332357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shipping_express/pseuds/shipping_express
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is one adventure of a drunken pirate captain, his exasperated first mate, a traumatized crew, and one banjo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Adventures of A Drunken Banjo

**Author's Note:**

> Just some warnings here for the use of a gun (that is never actually fired) and the threat of violence, but no one gets hurt! There's swearing and alcohol involved, but again, no harm is ever done to any of the characters.

**The Adventures of a Drunken Banjo**

            Captain Edward James Kenway, pride of the pirate fleet, securer of the new republic of Nassau, and conqueror of the Great Inagua Island, staggered aboard his ship like a boy who’d had his taste of alcohol for the first time.

            His booted feet scraped and tripped over every little uneven spot on the dock and his ship’s decks, causing him to pitch forward every few seconds with a strange, almost curdling noise of surprise. He would laugh and carry on anyway, shouting loud and incoherent orders while yelling at his men for apparently being lazy stowaways. The only thing he could properly grasp in his state was a sloshing, half-empty bottle of rum, and even that nearly flew out of his hands several times, like a fish desperate to get back into the sea.

            Men parted before their captain like ships from cannon fire, the smarter ones rushing to get below decks before they could be yelled at or knocked over in the miniature chaos. Some of the less intelligent kind tried to stop the captain from making a total fool of himself, but they were pushed easily away so that a few of them even tumbled overboard.

            And unfortunately—at least for most eyes—the captain wasn’t exactly very well clothed.

            In short, Captain Edward Kenway was righteously drunk off his sea-salted ass, and there was little his crew could do about it.

            By the time he’d staggered into his cabin, everyone save the freshest members knew it was too late. Some ran for the lower decks, a few jumped off the ship to the docks for safety, and one even clambered his way up and into the crow’s nest to escape. But alas, the slower-moving louts didn’t stand a chance.

            For a moment later, their once-noble captain came tottering out of his cabin with a banjo in one arm and a fresh bottle of rum in the other.

            “Hoi, mateys, gather ‘round!” he yelled with vigorous enthusiasm, clumsily pulling up a barrel to rest his drunken ass upon. “Ol’ Cap’n’s gon’ teach you ‘ow to REALLY sing!”

            A few sore, sad pirates tried one last time to run, but the captain’s gun was a very persuasive speaker, even when unfired. “Oi now, don’t you try an’ run ‘way, mates, just ‘cause y’ got poor taste in music! Don’t be shy now, gather ‘round!”

            And so, whatever fragment of poor pirates were left were forced to sit around their captain in a circle and listen, with painfully aching ears, to a self-composed banjo song. And the content of the wonderful new music they were forced to hear?

            “Ohhhh Caroline, I miss y’ every day, but y’ left me, so I must sad here stayyyyy!”

            Well, at least it rhymed.

            Even if it did go on for about half an hour before the finest pirate captain this side of the globe could be stopped from killing his crewmembers with the power of music.

            The only thing that could save the poor men was the sudden appearance of Adéwalé, who had been in Nassau bartering for more supplies at about the time his dear captain had been getting drunk off his ass. By the time Adéwalé had realized what had happened, Edward had already been well into his seventh round of the chorus—which, in all reality, contained the only lyrics and notes the song had at all.

            Fortunately for the crew, Adéwalé was a strong man, one who breathed purpose and direction. He was one of the few men who could actually contain the exuberance housed within their captain, and seeing the first mate come aboard the ship brought great hope to the tortured souls upon it. They knew that if anyone could save them, it would be him.

            They were not expecting his methods for dealing with the situation, however.

            “Oi, Adé! You’re missin’ the best part! Get over here!” Edward called out excitedly, swinging his still-unfired gun around in greeting and strumming some godforsaken cord on the small instrument. “Where y’ been?”

            “Captain, why are you playing the banjo…again? Have you gotten yourself drunk?” His voice was strangely calm, as if he’d witnessed the event several times before.

            “Oi, I’m not drunk! I barely drank all day, Adé!”

            The gruff man sighed and shook his head before stepping over and whipping the banjo out of his captain’s albeit weak grasp. “Come here, Captain.”

            Edward’s face flushed in fury immediately. “You give that back right now, Adé!”

            “Hmm…I think not. Come and get it.” Adéwalé dangled the instrument in front of Edward’s nose, snatching it back when the drunken man lunged for it. “Come along now, Captain…retrieve your damned banjo, hmm?”

            The rest of the ship watched in awe as their first mate slowly drew the stumbling drunk across the deck and into his cabin like a puppy being promised a boot string. They saw the cabin door slam shut behind them, and for a moment it was as if time no longer existed for them. They were frozen in the midst of all they had seen and heard, and their limbs were paralyzed.

            Minutes later, they saw Adéwalé leave the cabin, securing the door behind him and sheathing the gun Edward had been waving around earlier. He approached the group calmly, not betraying a single emotion upon his stoic face, and stopped a few paces away from them.

            “You are not to report of this incident to anyone, do you understand?” he questioned calmly, surveying all the emotions that were too telling on their faces while keeping his own blank. “You are not to mention it to the Captain, nor are you to disrespect or disobey him for any reason because of it.” His tone took on a sudden, harsher bite. “Is that clear?”

            He was met with a chorus of unified reply. “Aye aye!”

            “Good. Now get back to whatever it was you were doing, immediately.”

            “Yes, sir!”

            Adéwalé watched as the men scattered, racing below decks or out into Nassau like bilge rats running away from a dockyard cat. He breathed deeply and sighed, shaking his head at the stupidities his captain had gotten himself into.

            “I swear, that man’s lucky I stick around,” he muttered to himself before leaving the scene of the crime to tend to the man he had sworn loyalty to since the beginning.

**Author's Note:**

> Note: Adéwalé basically just tucked Edward into bed; don't worry, the worst the poor captain will experience is a major hangover come morning!


End file.
